


everything, everything

by makasouls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Asexual Pidge, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pining Keith (Voltron), also pidge and keith are pretty much bffs, it happened organically and now i'm sticking by it, klangst, lance is lance and i'm sorry, lowkey pining lance, pidge is so done with their nonsense can you blame her, someone help these poor boys, stay away from me and my trash son, this was supposed to be a joke-fic and then i angsted everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makasouls/pseuds/makasouls
Summary: Lance McClain will hit on anything with a pulse. Except for Keith, apparently.Why no, Keith isnotbitter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this after thinking about how much I love Lance and how he is always trying to be suavemente. I also thought about how much this would annoy Keith, and how much it would annoy Keith that it annoyed him, and how the hell did he end up in this situation, he was a good person? (I also really, _really_ love Pining Keith so...sorry buddy lmao)
> 
> Of course, I always have to angst everywhere, so enjoy this monstrosity
> 
> First Voltron fic, please be gentle~♥

“Great job, paladins,” Shiro praises, smile soft. “Let’s head back to the castle.”

They’ve just finished saving a planet from a Galra attack, and the small, rodent-like aliens circle them, cheering. One of them offers Shiro a bouquet of brightly-colored flowers in thanks, and he bends to receive them.

“Excuse me,” Lance says, eyebrows near his hairline. “I seem to have dropped something.”

Keith sees nothing else in the purple dirt, but Hunk dutifully asks, “What?”

Lance’s expression changes—eyes hooded, mouth curving into a lazy smirk— and Keith immediately knows he’s up to no good. “My _jaw.”_

At this, Shiro straightens, looking at the blue paladin over his shoulder and shaking his head good-naturedly.

Hunk’s grin is crooked as he pats his friend on the back. Pidge rolls her eyes and begins walking toward the castleship.

For a brief moment, Keith contemplates what was happening, but once the rest of his friends start to trail behind Pidge, he promptly lets it go.

~.~.~

Saving the universe apparently strengthens the appetite, as by the time Allura has set the ship onto new coordinates and Coran goes to scrounge up dinner, Keith is ravenous. And he isn’t the only one, as everyone but Lance is impatiently crowded around the table now, waiting for Coran to bring out rations. 

Lance, who likely has an actual black hole for a stomach, though Keith has yet to be able to prove it, is often one of the first people at the dinner table, so the red paladin notices his absence immediately.

Is he sick? Keith had _told_ him not to eat that weird fruit thing on Dyrt’a, but he had merely clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder and said, “Keith, my buddy, my man, you can’t live your life not experiencing other cultures. Especially not in space, dude.” And Keith had found his ears getting hot, unable to respond beyond an incredulous snort.

Maybe he’s tired. Keith knows that he hasn’t been sleeping well. Some nights, long past when everyone has gone to bed, Keith can hear him singing softly in Spanish through their shared bedroom wall. Sometimes, Keith hears Lance give up on sleep entirely, hears muffled movement and then the _whoosh_ of his bedroom door opening and closing. Keith stares at his ceiling, too chickenshit to follow him and find out what’s bothering him and what he’s doing, whether he’s hanging with Blue or making a midnight snack or simply roaming the empty halls. Hears him shuffle back in mere hours before Allura expects them at the training deck.

Keith doesn’t sleep well either.

Maybe—

Keith’s about two seconds from going to get Lance himself when the dark-skinned boy enters the room, settling Keith’s rising unease somewhat. Coran appears as well, hands filled with bowls, and Hunk eagerly gets up to help.

“Finally,” Pidge mutters. Clearly, Keith isn’t the only one who noticed Lance’s absence. “What, did you decide it was a good idea to start your ridiculous exfoliation routine before dinner? You know that takes like an hour.”

Lance smirks, making his way to the open seat across from her. Which just so happens to be next to Keith. Not that Keith notices. _Nope._ “First of all,” Lance drawls, reaching for a bowl, “exfoliation before dinner is always a good idea. I keep trying to tell you—I can hear your pores crying for help from here.”

Shiro turns his head to accept a pitcher of water-substitute from Coran, and Pidge uses the chance to flip Lance the bird. Keith snorts, and Lance gasps at them both indignantly.

“For your information,” he pouts as Hunk passes him the space goo and he scoops some into his bowl, “I was taking a nap. I know you missed me, Pidge, but I’m here now.” He pauses, lips quirking. “Now, what were your other two wishes?”

Hunk chuckles, Shiro shakes his head, but Keith blinks.

_…What?_

“Nice try.” Pidge rolls her eyes, pointing at herself. “Asexual,” she states flatly.

Lance taps the tip his thumb against his chest. “Bisexual,” he responds with a slow grin.

Keith chokes, goo suddenly making its way down his windpipe. _What?!_

Hunk looks at him, a worried slant to his mouth, as Keith struggles not to bring attention to his slow suffocation. Lance doesn’t notice, though, continuing his conversation as if he had not just flipped Keith’s world on its axis. _Rude._ “Are we just saying the obvious now? Hunk, you go.”

Keith wants to point out that _no_ , Lance’s bisexual status was _not_ obvious, but he’s too busy trying to discreetly force air into his lungs. No one else seemed to react to the news,  though, so maybe Keith’s just slow?

“Het,” Hunk responds, finally looking away from Keith’s shame.

Lance leans back in his chair, linking his fingers behind his head triumphantly. “See, Pidge? And my charms always work on Hunk.”

“That’s because he doesn’t want to hurt your fragile ego,” Pidge deadpans.

“Hey now,” Shiro chides her gently.

But Lance just pouts good-naturedly. “Listen, we all know my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.”

Keith grips the table, knuckles white, quietly wheezing, because no, _he did not know that._ Besides himself, that is. Lance is a moron, and yet Keith always finds himself _in his fucking yard_. For shame.

The blue paladin, still unaware of the explosions he has set off in Keith’s head, continues, “And all the girls too, obviously.”

“Milk…shake?” Allura murmurs to herself, blinking in confusion. Coran shrugs.

Hunk hears her. “It’s a dessert that you drink,” he explains, and Keith can see a different conversation branching off. “But what Lance is actually referring to is a 2003 hit song by American recording artist Kelis—”

“And how many demigirls are in your yard?” Pidge’s eyebrow raises, still challenging Lance’s attraction claims. “What’s your record?”

“…Admittedly lacking.” He sighs. “Which is exactly what you can help me with. You know I’m enticing, Pidge—stop fighting me!”

She smirks. “ _Never_.”

Lance finally seems to notice Keith, who is still making inhuman noises in an attempt breathe. “Keith, you okay, buddy?”

“Super,” he rasps, ignoring the knowing look Pidge is sending him. And Shiro. And Coran. And now Hunk and Allura have paused their discussion about contemporary R&B, Allura smiling at him encouragingly.

 _Fucking hell_. Did the whole ship know about his ridiculous infatuation with this cocky dumbass?

Lance shrugs, opens his mouth wide, and, lifting his bowl and tipping his head back, slides a disgusting amount of goo down his throat.

Everyone but said cocky dumbass, apparently.

Keith runs a hand though his hair, inwardly groaning.

“Hey,” Lance starts again, leaning across the table towards the green paladin, eyebrows waggling.

“Here we go,” Pidge mutters, sighing deeply into her goo.

“Are you a ninety-degree angle? Because baby, you’re lookin’ right.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Pidge groans, snorting despite herself. Hunk is laughing, and Shiro has an amused quirk to his lips, and Allura and Coran are discussing how these jokes aren’t translating well, but Keith? Keith’s jaw drops.

_What?!_

Lance is eating it all up, grin splitting his face. “You like that one, huh? You may be asexual, but I still know what gets you hot and bothered: science.”

“…Fair,” she says begrudgingly. “Fine. You win this one.”

Lance whoops, eyes bright with glee. “Your body is 65% water, and girl, I’m _thirsty_.”

“Don’t push your luck, McClain,” she growls, but she’s still smiling.

And reality as Keith knows it is still being sucked into the wormhole of _what the fuck?_

~.~.~.

“What was _that_?” Keith demands, resisting the urge the tug on his hair in frustration. Against all odds, he’s managed to survive dinner, but has followed Pidge to the common room afterwards, hoping to get some straight answers about what _all of that_ was about—Hunk was his first choice, but the larger boy got roped into after-dinner shenanigans with Lance. And, though he knows Shiro would answer him honestly, just the thought of his understanding eyes and the careful prodding about Keith’s feelings that would no doubt follow makes Keith want to open the air lock and toss himself into space to avoid the humiliation.

He feels like everyone is in on a joke, but no one has bothered to tell him what it is. Maybe that _is_ the joke.

“ _That_ ,” Pidge murmurs over the faint clacking of her fingers rapidly tapping her keyboard, “was you having a breakdown, I think.”

He feels his face burn, and is grateful she hasn’t looked up from her laptop screen. He soldiers on. “What was Lance doing? Was he…was he _flirting_ with you?”

The tapping stops. “…Yes?” she says in such a _duh_ tone that Keith feels himself flush again in indignation.

What does she mean, _duh?!_

He struggles on how best to put his confusion into words, before settling on, “Why?”

Pidge does look up then, the glow of the screen reflecting off of her glasses and making him unable to see her eyes. “Because he’s Lance,” she answers simply. Which is a fair answer—Lance is a flirt. “Why, does it bother you?”

Keith clears his throat, shifts uneasily. “Of course not. Why would it?” He grimaces at his tone, pathetically unconvincing even to his own ears. “I just didn’t understand what you meant by telling him he won, that’s all.”

“Well, he got me. It was only fair.”

“Got…you?”

“You know, in that game we play.” Pidge’s eyebrows furrow as she contemplates the blank look on Keith’s face. “The one where he tries to pick us all up with corny lines?”

“Pick us—” Realization dawns, and things slowly click into place. That one bizarre comment to Shiro that he now realizes was Lance _checking out Shiro’s ass_ , the countless exchanges he’s heard between Lance and Hunk that he wrote off as being a weird best bros thing. And now Pidge.

“Are you saying he’s never hit on you?” At his silence, her lips twitches, her eyes wide. “ _Oh_. Ohohoho _I can’t believe this—_ ”

He really can’t take being made fun of right now. The mortification burns down his neck, and he’s sure the rest of him is splotchy with color.  “Please don’t start, Pidge.”

“ _Amazing_ ,” she whispers. Keith decides he’s heard enough and turns to make his embarrassing exit.

“Did you really not know Lance is bi?” she calls after him. Keith’s steps stutter, but don’t stop. “There has got to be a higher power out there. There’s no way. For me to be able to witness this chain of events— _hashtag blessed._ ”

“Pidge,” he groans, covering his face with his hands even though she can’t see it. The skin is hot. He stops walking, but doesn’t turn to face her. “…Coran too?”

“ _Especially_ Coran.” He can hear her preening. “I think he really gets a kick out of it. It encourages Lance’s dumbassery, which I normally don’t condone, but since it’s amusing more times than not, well.”

Keith doesn’t respond, leaving her to science or whatever Pidge things she does.

Well. It seems Lance makes a habit of flirting with anything that moves, which is not a surprise, as it’s _Lance_. No one on the ship is safe. Except for Keith, apparently.

He makes a beeline for the training deck, jaw clenched tight.

~.~.~

After he realizes what is happening, Keith feels like a complete moron. _It’s so obvious._

When Hunk is valiantly trying to scrounge up a decent snack for them all and Lance slinks up to him.

(“Nice pants. Mind if I test the zipper?”

“Bro, I thought you’d never ask.”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro._ ”)

When Lance manages to get sprayed with mystery substance by some alien creature, and Allura worriedly asks him if he feels okay.

(“I think something’s wrong with my eyes.”

“How, Lance?!”

“I can’t take them off _you_.”

A crash as Allura promptly pushes him off the ledge he’s sitting on. Keith walks Lance to the infirmary when he informs them that in all seriousness, his eyesight really is a bit blurry, and Lance laughs the whole way there.)

When he silently watches Shiro for a second longer than is polite, and the older man turns to him, a brow raised in question.

(“If you were a fruit, you would be a _fineapple_.”

An amused smile. “Damn straight.”)

It’s all just irritating enough to bring him back in front of Pidge, who’s tinkering with something or another on the floor of her room. She doesn’t say a word as he paces before her, rambling about how ridiculous Lance is, and why do they all humor him, it only makes him _unbearable_ to be around, and frankly, Keith is tired of it.

He stops ranting for a moment, breath coming out in puffs, and Pidge blinks slowly. “Are you done?” she asks pleasantly.

Keith mentally clutches his pearls, simultaneously indignant and embarrassed. “Aren’t _you_ tired of being hit on?” he demands.

Pidge just looks at him knowingly.

“ _Katie_ ,” he presses.

Pidge glowers. “Don’t you ‘Katie’ me,” she snaps. “That only works when my brother does it.”

“I just—” He stops, the raw emotion he has been carefully stowing away for months and months suddenly nestling in his throat and making it impossible to speak.

Pidge’s expression softens at whatever she sees on his face.

Keith clears his throat, quietly tries again. Hopes he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he feels. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

And there it is. The underlying truth that has eaten at him since the moment he recognized why his heart rate skyrockets when Lance smiles at him, or why his skin burns pleasantly when Lance touches him (a pat on the back, a casual arm slung over his shoulder, knees unconsciously resting against his beneath the dinner table), or why his stomach clenches whenever Lance laughs, or why—

He is not enough, and never has been—not to the mother who abandoned him in a trash can moments after he was born, not to the countless foster parents he’s had, so _of course_ he wouldn’t be enough to Lance, the beautiful, irritating boy who emanates sunshine. He had known this.

Pidge lets out a frustrated sound, running her hand through the cloud she calls hair. “I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved,” she mutters, and then her eyes are back on him, resolute, but soft. “Keith, have you ever considered the fact that Lance doesn’t jokingly flirt with you because he doesn’t consider it a joke?”

He blinks at her, momentarily pausing his self-piteous downward spiral. “…What?”

“Can you just go talk to him, please?” she huffs. “All this pining was amusing at first, but it’s getting old.”

“I’m not pining,” Keith lies miserably while actively and aggressively pining.

 _Seriously?_ Her expression says. She is _done_ with Keith’s nonsense, and he doesn’t blame her one bit. “If you don’t talk to him soon, I’m going to lock both of you in an enclosed space and not let you out until you do. I’m deadass—don’t test me, Keith.”

~.~.~

Of course, Keith does not follow her sage advice, because pull Lance aside and talk about his feelings? Explain how his blood pounds when Lance smiles and how he listens to Lance’s melodic voice late at night when they should both be asleep and wills himself to breach the physical and metaphorical wall between them? Admit that his insides have been twisting into themselves with… _jealousy?_

Now that was just crazy talk.

Instead, he does his best to avoid him. He grabs a quick breakfast before everyone else so he isn’t forced to sit next to Lance, imagining what the slope of his jaw tastes like. He holes himself up in the training deck, fighting bot after bot, until inevitably the object of his frustration makes an appearance.

“Have you been training this entire time?” Lance asks, voice coated in disbelief. Keith freezes, a deer in the headlights, and the training bot knocks him flat on his ass. Keith can see the blue paladin’s grimace from his tangled place on the ground. “Hey, you okay, man?”

“Just peachy,” Keith mutters, praying to whoever is listening that Lance assumes the color in his face is from exertion, and not obvious embarrassment. Stopping the training exercise, he scrambles upright, running a hand through his sweaty bangs and noticing when Lance’s blue, blue eyes follow the movement.

“Hey.” The taller boy’s tone is almost conspiratorial, eyebrow ticked, lips curving in the familiar way that has Keith’s toes curling in his shoes. “Wanna spar?”

“I…” Lance, _sweaty_ Lance. Sweaty Lance holding Keith down with his deceptively strong arms, pressing him into the mat, breath hot on the back of his neck. “ _I have to go_.”

Keith doesn’t look back as he books it out of there.

~.~.~

He stands beneath the showerhead for a very long time.

~.~.~

Unfortunately, Keith’s self-imposed isolation doesn’t last long. They are paladins of Voltron, defenders of the universe, and the universe isn’t going to wait for his Gay Crisis to fix itself—it’s rude like that. Keith has a job to do.

They land on a planet that Allura insists is essential to their mission, and get to work securing an alliance with its people. Keith is relatively successful at ignoring Pidge’s glare, as well as Lance and his stupid laugh and his stupid mouth and his stupid—

(Lance lightly bumps the red paladin’s hip with his own. “Lighten up,” he says, picking up on Keith’s grumpy attitude. Keith does not notice this, nor does he notice the stuttering of his heart, or the slim curve of those hips as Lance walks away.)

Finally— _finally_ —after hours of Keith _not noticing_ things, the people of Tijowin agree to join them in the fight against Zarkon. With a deep exhale, the red paladin makes to return to the ship, where he can mope in comfort and solitude.

“So,” he hears Lance begin behind him, a certain, recognizable lilt to his voice that has Keith tensing and preparing for the worst. He turns, only to see the tall boy winking at a Tijowinian. “Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

That charming motherfucker.

“Oh, come on!” Keith yells, startling both Lance and his alien suitor. “Its got, like, five arms and polka-dotted skin!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pidge and Hunk look at each other, eyes as wide as saucers. But he can’t stop. He’s opened the floodgates, and now he can no longer control what comes out of his mouth.

Lance balks at that, giving Keith a look that clearly says _are you crazy_? Because one surely doesn’t keep alliances by implying that your ally is hideous and unworthy of being flirted with. Surely. “Beauty comes in all shapes and colors, Keith,” he says, eyebrow quirked.

“Keith,” Shiro warns, and Keith hears him and sees him, but he might as well not be there at all. No one is there, not Pidge, not Hunk, not even the mildly-offended alien—it’s just Lance, smiling, but clear blue eyes bewildered, and Keith, breathing out a fire that has been stoked for much too long.

“Does it?” Keith hears himself demand. “Why don’t you ever flirt with _me_ , then?”

“Oh shit!” Pidge says. She and Hunk are gaping at each other, in apparent disbelief that this is happening. _Now_. Shiro sighs.

“You know what?” the Tijowinian says in a deep voice. One of its many hands points a thumb in the opposite direction. “I can see you two have some things to work out, so I’m just gonna…go.”

Keith watches as Lance’s smile folds into itself, confused. Vacantly, he hears Hunk apologize for their antics, but Lance doesn’t even acknowledge the alien as it walks away, doesn’t unlock his gaze from Keith’s.

“What?”

“Did I stutter?”

 _That_ seems to get Lance, and he scowls, body suddenly rigid and ready to spring into battle. Keith is almost relieved at the hostility—this is what they do. This is charted territory. He can do this.

“You want me to flirt with _you_?” Lance’s voice raises at the end, bemused and borderline hysterical. His fingers twitch at his sides, as if to reach for his bayard. “ _Puta madre._ Keith, what—”

“What, got nothing to say?” Keith snaps, and he wishes he could just shut up _shut up_.

The tension leaves Lance’s body then, his jaw silently working. His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows; his mouth opens a few times before he settles on, “Uh. Your eyes.” He fidgets under Keith’s intense stare.  “Um. They’re…they’re nice.”

Keith blinks. Silence weighs between them, and it feels as if everyone is holding their breath, afraid to move. Fury bubbles beneath Keith’s skin, and he clenches his fists.  “ _THAT’S_ ALL YOU HAVE TO—” He stops, abruptly realizing he’s fast approaching the brink of tears, and simply walks away, one step in front of the other, the blood rushing in his ears deafening him to multiple voices calling after him. He boards the ship and heads straight for his room, his shuddering breath way too loud in the quiet.

No one follows.

~.~.~

To Keith’s relief, the rest of the team leaves him to stew in peace. He doesn’t come out for dinner—doesn’t think he can stomach it anyway—but a little afterward, he hears whispering through his closed door and tenses. The voices taper off into silence, and Keith unclenches fists he didn’t know he had clenched.

It’s a good thing he’s wearing gloves, because he has no doubt the meat of his palms would be full of crescent moons otherwise.

His eyes burn.

This is pathetic. _He_  is pathetic.

~.~.~

 

It’s late at night, or maybe early morning, but does it really matter? Keith isn’t asleep anyway, his insomnia taking zero pity on his bruised heart. As much as he wants to not notice, he does—there is no singing drifting through the walls. No noise at all, really, just the occasional shuffling as Lance resituates himself in bed, and then the muffled footsteps as he gives up on sleep entirely and makes to leave his room.

Keith stares at the wall between them, listening to the _whoosh_ as Lance’s door opens and closes, and remembers how often this scenario has played out. And despite everything that has happened, how his pillow has collected his frustrated tears, how he has yet to pick up the shattered remains of his self-esteem, Keith still yearns to follow him.

Where does Lance go? _Why_ does he go?

There’s a faint knock at the door.

Keith freezes, startled. Maybe if he doesn’t move, they’ll go away—

“Keith?” comes a soft voice. The wind is knocked out of Keith’s chest. Another knock. “Keith, it’s Lance.”

Keith sucks in breath incredulously. As if _he didn’t know_.

“Keith, I know you’re awake. Pidge is threatening me and Mamá always said you should never go to bed angry with someone and…please let me in. Just—please.”

Something in Lance’s voice breaks Keith just a little more, and he finds himself getting out of bed and unlocking his door. With both of them standing on either side of it, the door slides open, and then there he is, barely a foot away from Keith.

For a moment, they just look at each other, breathing in the same air. Lance’s eyes are rimmed in dark shadows, and Keith is concerned. But then the mortification returns, sliding through Keith’s system like ice water, and he turns away, moving out of the doorway. “Are you coming or not?” he asks roughly, sitting back on the bed.

Lance steps into the room. His hair is tousled from his attempt at sleep, but he didn’t even bother to put on his proper pajamas, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, minus his jacket. Now that Keith has let him in, Lance looks surprised, as if he hadn’t planned this far ahead—now what was he supposed to do? He bites his lip.

Keith wants to kiss him.

 _What do you want, Lance?_ The words are halfway formed on Keith’s tongue, curled around his teeth, but what passes his lips instead is a soft, frustrated, “Why don’t you sleep?”

Lance’s hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he’s leaning nonchalantly against the wall that separates his room from Keith’s. He looked worn before, but at Keith’s words, he sort of falls into himself, clearly _exhausted_. His eyes skirt away. “We’re never going home, are we.”

A statement, not a question. One that has occasionally crossed Keith’s mind. It is just statistically impossible that all of them—aside from Shiro, just green teenagers, not the seasoned soldiers they are expected to be—will make it out of this unscathed. And even if they do, how likely was it that they’ll be able to liberate the entire, vast universe within the confines of their tiny human lifespans?

So Keith has thought about this, but he has always let the idea float away, because what the fuck ever, at least now, his life has _purpose_. He doesn’t have a home anyway, so what does it matter?

Lance, on the other hand…

“My new niece has been born by now. I’ll probably never meet her,” the taller boy continues, gaze still averted. His lip trembles before he catches it. “Do you think my family will ever learn what happened to me?”

Keith’s breath catches. His heart hurts, much, much worse than before. Was he really so self-centered, so caught up in his stupid feelings that he didn’t notice how haunted Lance is, how alone?

Unbidden, he reaches for him, fingers tentatively circling a bony wrist. Lance looks at him then, but Keith can only study where their skin touches, notice how pale he looks next to Lance, caramel and sun-kissed. Keith tries not to think about how clammy his hands are, and instead focuses on how warm the other boy is, on how his heartbeat flutters against Keith’s fingertips like a trapped bird. “You need to sleep,” he hears himself say.

Lance _breathes_ , and then he steps forward, shins knocking Keith’s knees. When Keith finally meets his gaze, he finds a question there. A beat passes, and Keith must give him the answer he’s looking for, because then he’s slipping off his shoes, and Keith is letting go of his wrist and crawling to the other side of the bed, and Lance is turning off the main light and slipping beneath the covers.

There are a few moments where they try to get settled in the slim bed not quite made for two, moments where limbs inevitably get tangled and the sheets rustle and they valiantly try not to touch and Keith turns to face the wall because there’s no way he can sleep _facing_ Lance, not when he’s this close and looking at him and Keith might combust with embarrassment.

Lance finally sighs, giving up the futile fight, and places a tentative hand on Keith’s waist. And when Keith doesn’t immediately send him crashing to the floor, doesn’t do anything at all in the next few breaths, he securely wraps his whole arm around him, making them both much more comfortable.

Keith waits until he hears the other boy’s breathing even, and then he turns in his slackened hold. He can smell him, the faint scent of the soap they all use somehow different on Lance’s skin, somehow better. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Keith can just barely make out his features beneath the dim cabin lighting.

Lance’s eyelashes are still wet, spiderwebbing across his cheekbones, and Keith resists the urge to kiss them dry.

~.~.~

They sleep.

~.~.~

When Keith awakens, it’s slowly. His body fights it, not wanting to give up the first decent night’s sleep it’s had in a while—his limbs are sluggish, and when his eyes finally open, it takes a moment for the cloud of sleep to clear his vision.

Blue meets his gaze, and gradually, Keith regains his bearings. In his sleep, he has managed to burrow even closer to his bedmate, a leg between Lance’s, their noses just barely brushing and making them crosseyed as they maintain eye-contact.

“You never let me finish,” Lance says lowly, his voice rough with sleep. In this sleepy haze, in their warm cocoon, his words seem strangely intimate. “Yesterday.”

Keith pulls his head back a little so they can see each other properly, but otherwise doesn’t move. They breathe the same air, lazy and hot and filled with an undercurrent of something Keith can’t name.

“For a while, I thought your eyes were black, but then I learned that they’re only black when you’re mad. When you’re mad, they’re like a black hole, ending anything stupid enough to get in its path.”

Keith swallows, and Lance unconsciously follows the movement with his eyes before continuing.

“Normally, they’re kind of a dark blue? Nah, that’s not quite right—kinda purpley. Like…like dusk in the desert. Remember?”

Of course Keith remembers. He remembers many nights spent sitting on the roof of his shack, watching the breathtaking colors of the sunset, feeling sorry for himself. Wondering what his purpose was. Feeling the _thrum_ of energy that he now knows was the Blue Lion, calling out to him, _recognizing_ him, hoping he would unite her with her starry-eyed paladin. Maybe that was his purpose.

“But when you laugh, when you _really_ laugh, they’re a little lighter.” Fingers idly trace patterns along Keith’s lower back as Lance thinks; Keith holds back a shiver. “The way the ocean looks after a storm, when the water is finally still again, and the sun peeks through the clouds and reflects off it and everything comes back to life. Like that. They remind me of home.” A pause. “So yeah, your eyes are nice.”

Keith’s breath catches, mind scrambling. Part of his purpose, he knows now, is to pilot Red, to defend the universe. But maybe _this_ is his true purpose—to love this sad, lanky, goofy boy. To burrow with him under blankets and look at him with eyes that give him a little piece of the home he’s lost.

Keith is nothing if not impulsive, and without much thought, he closes the gap between them. “Shut up,” he says, the brush of their lips as much a kiss as a retort.

Lance laughs, making Keith accidentally kiss his teeth. He pulls the red paladin closer. “You’re such a sweet talker.”

“I would rather not talk at all,” Keith says pointedly, taking a moment to frown.

Beautiful color blooms across Lance’s face; Keith’s heart sings. His smile lights up his whole face, lights up the whole _room_ , and he trails kisses along Keith’s jaw.

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

~.~.~

They enter the kitchen only a little late for breakfast, Lance’s hand resting comfortably on Keith’s waist. Everyone looks up, and Lance takes advantage of their attention.

“Everyone,” he crows, “I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Keith.”

Jaws drop.

“Oh my,” Allura murmurs.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Pidge gasps, raising her hands to the ceiling in thanks. “I would like to thank God, and also Jesus.”

“Language,” Shiro chides, but his heart doesn’t really sound in it. He looks just as relieved.

“Congrats, bro!” Hunk beams, holding his hand up for a high-five that Lance enthusiastically receives. He looks at Keith. “I’m happy for you guys.”

Keith isn’t really sure what to do with all this attention, so he just sits down, face warm. But it’s a good warm, and he’s almost dizzy with happiness. Coran hands him a bowl of goo with a wink, and he begins eating it, almost shyly, until the feeling of being watched gets too strong and he catches Lance looking at him with such unrestrained affection that he grins.

Lance grins back, and they grin at each other stupidly for a few ticks before Lance leans in for a kiss. Keith tries not to preen.

Hunk coughs. Pidge makes a face, gagging. “Gross, get a room!” But both of them are grinning too.

Lance pulls away, slinging an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “Get used to it,” he says snidely. “You guys are just jealous!”

“You’re right. I'm definitely jealous.” Hunk nods sadly. “I always thought I’d end up with my best bro.”

Lance’s bottom lip trembles, and he abruptly lets go of Keith and reaches for Hunk over the table. “Bro!”

Hunk clasps Lance’s hands. “ _Bro_.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Keith mutters around his goo.

“What?” Lance smirks, shooting finger guns his way. “Do I embarrass you, babe?”

“Always,” Keith deadpans. But he can’t ignore the warmth in his chest, spreading all the way to his toenails. Can’t stop the corner of his mouth from curving up.

Lance waggles his eyebrows, and his lips slowly smirk.  _That_ smirk, it slowly dawns on Keith. That all-too-familiar quirk of Lance’s lips, the one that has been directed to literally every talking, breathing being except Keith. Until now. “How about I make it up to you?” the blue paladin drawls. “I’ll give you a kiss. And if you don’t like it, you can return it.”

Keith blinks, jaw dropping slightly.

A loud, deep sigh comes from Pidge. “Looks like you’ve gone and made yourself the sole recipient of Lance’s inappropriate behavior. Congratulations, Keith. YOU PLAYED YOURSELF.”

Hunk shakes his head. “You really need to rethink your life choices.”

But Keith…Keith doesn’t really notice any of these things. Keith only notices how Lance’s smile slots perfectly against his own, only notices how the baby hairs at Lance’s nape curl against his fingers.

 _I made great choices_ , he thinks deliriously, and he doesn’t shove Lance away from him, the force knocking the poor guy out of his chair, until Shiro clears his throat and announces it’s time to head to the training deck.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :) 
> 
> Title is from [a Lianne La Havas song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GM0_pd2tpG0). You should listen to it immediately, and then listen to everything else she's put out, because if you don't know already, she's _amazing_!
> 
> Come visit me at [my tumblr](http://makasouls.tumblr.com/), and also follow my [Voltron-specific blog](http://gdi-lance.tumblr.com/) where you can often find me crying about gays in space


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